


Heretics of Mars

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Barsoom - Edgar Rice Burroughs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-02
Updated: 2008-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1638899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Written alongside Hostages of Mars for Yuletide 2007, but unrelated: gen and canon pairings only.)  Five stories about changes great and small.<br/>Thuvia among the banths.Tars Tarkas and his daughter.Dejah Thoris is mistaken.Sola and the great white ape.John Carter and his ladies in peacetime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heretics of Mars

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Loligo

 

 

> * * *
> 
> I.   
> 
> 
> Imagine, if you will, that you are in hell.
> 
> On every side, golden, gem-studded cliffs tower above crimson swards, cropped to a perfect smoothness beside the shores of a silent ocean, that most unfamiliar sight on our dying planet, presenting a scene of strange and vivid beauty that should have been a living paradise. Every child of Barsoom is raised in the belief that one day, if another death has not come by the end of one's thousandth year, we will take the long pilgrimage on the bosom of the icy River Iss to the fabled shores of the Lost Sea of Korus, and here our spirits will find rest in a haven of peace and oblivion. Both red men and green (and others, I was to learn) embark at last and make that final voyage, never to return. 
> 
> But these beauties are a fair mask on a hideous face. Terrible beasts lurk among the tall trees — the voracious plant men and the great white apes — ready to devour the innocent, leaving young maidens, the withered and elderly, and brave warriors alike in hideous piles of bloodless flesh and mangled bone.
> 
> And ruling over this scene, the Holy Therns, the most revered of living beings, guardians of the land of death, are here revealed with all the petty vices, the callousness, the gross and hedonistic pleasures of everyday mortals. The uncanny beauty of this echoing valley is tainted by their plunderings, their gladiatorial slaughters, their cold, loveless sins, as they wallow in idleness and cruelty, draped in riches stolen from the dead. 
> 
> Imagine, now, having seen these horrors, you are told that — unlike your faithful men-at-arms and your aged nurse, those few who swore themselves to your protection — having come to this false heaven, you will not be allowed to die. 
> 
> No, you who are now dead to all who live upon the face of Barsoom will yet be denied oblivion, because you are beautiful. 
> 
> For not all those who make this perilous journey are in the final year of their allotted lifespan. Others voluntarily leave the living world behind to come in search of their loved ones or only forgetfulness; others such as I, Thuvia, a slave, once of Ptarth, daughter of a great Jeddak whose name I shall not sully by uttering it here. Yes, foolish Thuvia, in answer to the promptings of some vague sense of destiny, with a few devoted attendants followed that subterranean path of doom to the gorgeous and terrible scene that I describe.
> 
> When the beasts devoured my attendants before my eyes, when crude white-skinned men snatched me from the scene and pulled me into dark passageways within the cliffs, I knew not what to think. When I was brought to Sator Throg, a Holy Thern of the Tenth Cycle, and presented as a prize, still I could not understand. I imagined a mortal death was needed to finally enter the true land, just as they had stripped from me all my bracelets and ornaments, and I fell to my knees and begged them to end me, that this painful transition might be swift and final. But when the truth of the matter was repeated enough times to be heard and understood, I ceased to beg, and for a time could not speak. 
> 
> Always I had been told that the Holy Therns guarded the way to paradise. Never had I questioned it. Faith and science are much the same, for a Barsoomian. We would no more question that eternal rest can be found in the Valley of Dor at the end of the River Iss than that the eighth ray holds up a flier by its powers of repulsion. Doubting the efficacy of science is for the lowest savages — and even savages know of the River Iss. 
> 
> When Sator Throg made his desires known to me, I denied him with dreamlike calm. I thought it a test. Perhaps it was necessary that I prove my virtue, or that I had no further attachment to the dreams and passions of the living. When he took hold of me, however, I saw that in his expression which knew nothing of holiness, and I grew frightened and struck out, hitting him with my fists, for although I thought myself dead, and these the servants of the gods, still I breathed, and always my person had been treated with respect in my father's halls. 
> 
> When at last I tore at him with my nails he threw me to the floor, and ordered them to take me from his sight. "Let her die the death," he said. "Let the banths tear her limb from limb, let them feast upon her soft throat as she screams. Let the red woman learn what waits for mortals who spurn the honor of serving the holiest of beings!" In my shame and confusion, I wept. 
> 
> The lesser therns dragged me, half-conscious, down corridors shaped from the living gold of the cliffs, dimly lit by radium bulbs above, past dark storerooms and shuffling slaves in chains who did not lift their heads to watch me pass. This could not be. The religion that had held sway over our entire world for countless aeons could not be a lie, a cruel, avaricious deception carried out by ordinary men driven by lust, greed, and the urge for power. We are a practical people, and the evidence before my eyes would have convinced any other much sooner, perhaps. But I — I had long felt some added awareness of the unseen, of something greater than man's daily battles, his pomp and circumstance, and here in the dark bowels of the mountains, surrounded by the hushed padding of bare feet and the distant howls of tormented souls and wild beasts, still was I lost in doubt. 
> 
> We came at last out into the sunlight again, into a scene of such great beauty I caught my breath, confused anew. Vast gardens spread out before me, sheltered by the glimmering cliffs, while graceful, many-gemmed buildings clustered here and there, and everywhere fine men and beautiful women, all with the richest trappings and the white skin of the therns, made their way slowly from place to place attended by slaves, as if in the entire country every man were a jeddak and every woman a jeddara. And so, I later learned, do they consider themselves, and more — every thern is believed a god in relation to the lesser orders, such as ourselves, and so they take our possessions and our lives and feast upon our flesh without compunction.
> 
> Through this rich parade the guardsmen of Sator Throg dragged my unresisting body, under the avid stares of the thern ladies, many of whom gathered to observe my fate. To a great pit, ringed with platinum railings set with rubies the size of fists, I was half-ushered, half-carried, while a crowd of noble therns collected on the terrace overhead. Then, as I gazed down over the railing into the broad depression below, my captors simply pushed me in. 
> 
> I tumbled head over heels for several lengths of the body, slowly enough to gain some sense of what was happening. The sloped sides of the pit were paved with mosaics and splashed heavily with a dried substance I soon realized, to my horror, was blood. 
> 
> When I collected at last in a painful heap upon the sand, strange sounds filled my ears. They were growls, threatening and deep; first one, then many. Raising myself slowly from the surface of the enclosed garden arena, I beheld all around me and advancing, seven or more of the most fearsome beasts I had ever laid eyes on — massive, taller than a man at the shoulder, ten-legged, maned, their many rows of vicious teeth needle-sharp, their tails lashing as they crouched to spring — banths. 
> 
> In truth, then, I was to die; but as I faced those slavering maws, I found a new strength. I recalled who I had been, in the world of the living, and I wished to meet my death as I had lived, with dignity and pride. Rising to my feet, I stood fully upright, quaking inside, but determined to show no fear. "Beasts! Feast quickly, but do not torment me further than is needed to sate your hunger," I cried.
> 
> Jaws working, mighty sinews bunched for the leap, as one, the banths hesitated. 
> 
> Jeers and curses fell from above, as the watchful therns exhorted the ferocious animals to tear me limb from limb. I scarcely heard them. A strange sense of power overcame me. Although mental communion with the lower orders is common upon Barsoom, this is primarily with beasts that have been domesticated and trained from birth, not such ravening wild creatures. And yet could I feel the minds of the banths surrounding me, in their hunger and their frustration, and I felt also their curiosity and something like awe, and I knew I could command. 
> 
> "Back!" I said, then, instead. "Do not harm me!" —For even in the darkest extremity, when one believes one has given up one's soul to death, somehow hope lingers on, and one finds oneself struggling to preserve that life as if one had never before resigned it. 
> 
> Tails ceased to lash, terrible jaws ceased to work, and as one, the hungry desert creatures lowered themselves to the glittering sand of the pit and waited, whining softly. As objects thrown from above glanced off their thick hides — jewels and ornaments from the hands of angry therns cheated of their show — and others laughed and called out suggestions that I cause the beasts to dance or bite off their own tails, I stepped forward and began to smile, faintly. "Come," I said, and I called to them then in a strange tone, something like a purr, that I felt instinctively would soothe them and strengthen our unknown bond. 
> 
> And they approached, padding on massive feet, grovelling on their backs or pushing at me with their broad heads in turn, while I stroked their hairless sides and stared about at the beautiful, bloodstained mosaics on the walls of the pit around us, until the guards returned, sidearms at the ready, to pull me from the fanged company of my new friends through a secret door in the slanted wall into the silence of another dark corridor. 
> 
> Sator Throg did not claim me again that night, nor did he again order me killed. There was something in his eyes that spoke of fear, or at least suspicion, and he ordered me confined in a room near his quarters until this matter of the banths be further investigated. This minor mercy left me above ground, and with access to a window, narrow and barred, although, as I quickly learned looking out of it, there was no means of escape to be found on the sheer cliff wall, even had I any place I could dream of escaping to, and the opening was too small to easily pass through had I wished merely to hurl myself to a quicker death than perhaps awaited me. 
> 
> Strangely, I felt no fear. I had felt none since the dread banths had come to my hand. In its place, there was not yet even anger, only emptiness, as I groped to an understanding of that which surrounded me. 
> 
> I knew no more of the whys and hows of religion than of the abstruse details of our science; but I had known powerful men, and lies. I recognized these here. In the dark, I unmade my view of the world, but I was luckier perhaps than many of the other pilgrims who had met this bitter fate. I saw again the banths fawning at my feet, and felt the force that had guided my actions and taught me to compel their obedience. I remembered the confusion of the bloodthirsty crowd above as I stood among the mighty ten-legged killers, unharmed. 
> 
> There was something yet that was not understood — by myself or by the Holy Therns, in their full pride and power. It might yet be that the distant prompting I had followed here had purpose after all, beyond this profane veil. Such living blasphemy could not continue forever, even though it had endured for countless aeons. And I believe this still, though day on weary day has followed of my captivity in this hated place without hope or change. A doom is coming. 
> 
> As I pressed my forehead to the bars, searching the sky for the familiar faces of the moons that had begun to illuminate the scene, far below, in the gardens, a great sound went up. It was the eerie roar of a banth, protesting against its cage. Another voice joined it, and another. We were too far for the mysterious bond between us to have affected them — I would have had to see them directly in order to form any mental contact — and yet — they roared. 
> 
> It is a strange thing, but as I stood there that night, reborn a slave in the dark underworld hidden behind the cliffs of the Mountains of Otz, listening to the roaring of the banths under the light of the smaller moon, I felt that I could unseat the world.
> 
>   
> 
> 
> II.
> 
>   
>  I wished private speech with my daughter. At a signal, my warriors stepped back, awaiting me with their restless thoats kept in check in the city streets. The windless vastness of the dead sea bottoms awaited us, and one thoat had no rider. 
> 
> We spoke only in grunts, communicating mostly from mind to mind, as is often the way of our people. I would not have my warriors hear Tars Tarkas, Jeddak of Thark, make this request of a female, though I had acknowledged her as my own flesh and blood many years hence; and my daughter and I did not touch, although we had held to each other tightly and spoken our regrets behind closed doors, earlier that day. 
> 
> The converse we held would have sounded something like this, translated for a red man's ears: "Return with us," I demanded again. "Your place at my side would be an honored one."
> 
> Sola bowed her head, and with the stubbornness and yet the affection — so rare and unnatural in our race — that had always characterized her, said only, "To serve you always was an honor." 
> 
> For long had she been but a woman in my household, and I had treated her as the others, except perhaps for some added trust and some faint fondness, I knew not why, for I had never consciously recognized her resemblance to her mother, the woman I had loved against all the laws of my people, she who had died for me and for the safety of our child — Gozava.
> 
> I said then, "You would be allowed to mate. Your softer feelings and our familial bond, that throwback to earlier times, are no weakness, but an asset that can help our people. Did not my great friend John Carter show us the truth of that, and teach me to unite the warring tribes as never before? Return, and shape the future. I have spoken."
> 
> A painful expression passed over my daughter's gentle face — beautiful, but with a softness considered unbecoming by the green men. Whether she mourned afresh, as we all did, that mighty prince, or thought only of the promised child, I do not know. 
> 
> "Even," Sola said. She paused and began again. "Even if I were allowed to keep the egg and raise it, acknowledged, as my own, even if your protection were sufficient and angry protests did not arise to threaten your power, my father, I would not return. I cannot leave while Dejah Thoris, the Princess of Helium, still mourns her lord. Here I first found friendship, here I first met kindness. Among the green men I have known only coldness, and at the women's hands, torment. The long years of loneliness and fear rendered the dead cities and sea bottoms of our home as alien to me as my dislike of our cruel customs rendered me to our people. 
> 
> "Although in the palace of Tardos Mors never will I find a green warrior to answer the dreams given to a foolish heart nor an opportunity to pass on the tender affection that my mother, your beloved, gave to me, still here lies my duty, and here the only warmth I have known. But I would not, my father, having finally the right to address you so, be far from you, did not the Princess' grief weigh on her thus," and the gentle features quivered, in the only outward sign of her distress. 
> 
> This, by the standards of the Tharks, was a great display of emotion, and it may be that I, too, betrayed something to the watching warriors. They had grown used to such exhibitions in the past years, however, and challenged me with no accusation of weakness as I bid my daughter a silent farewell. We had no more need of speeches. I knew her mind, and she knew mine. 
> 
> We rode from the city, hundreds strong, the red men and women lining the streets as ever to watch us go, in mixed fear and admiration of our fighting prowess, for we have taught them down the ages to respect the green man's sword. Thanks to my friend, the long-vanished John Carter, we were welcomed here as allies, but alliances have been known to disappear like tracks on moss, and without his presence to bind it, the friendship might not last. Already I had noted that strife in the councils of the jeds which among the Tharks would have meant duels to the death on the floor of the council chamber, before business could be resumed. The red men cloak their hatreds and divisions behind policy and honeyed words, but it comes to the same in the end. The answer is always the same, at last, in our world: war. 
> 
> And as always, at that thought — I smiled. 
> 
> But what then of my daughter, the faithful Sola, handmaiden to the red Princess? What could tempt her back to the safety of our home territory, ringed with the blades of Thark? I knew of only one force strong enough to change such stubborn convictions, for once, many years past, it had overturned mine. That force so powerful it had destroyed the training of a lifetime and set me against all that I knew, driving me to plot the destruction of our jeddak and to flout the most basic customs of our people. Were Sola, too, to know this thing, she could not fail to give way to it. I scanned the faces of my fighting men. 
> 
> He must be a great fighter, strong and cunning, but also possess those gentle emotions that had always been considered a danger, a vile throwback, weeded out with swift violence when seen. There were none such among the elders and the jeds who ruled our fierce people. Who, then, among the younger warriors could meet this description — and would he not have hid his nature, as I had hid the love that transfigured me, all those years while I plotted my revenge on my enemy, Tal Hajus? 
> 
> It would be hard to find such a man. It would take time; I would have to watch my young warriors carefully; it would take time. But the Tharks live long. 
> 
> We passed through the gate of the city of Helium, the sound of our thoats' progress lessening as their feet left the paved stones for the moss of the downward slope, and spread out, forming a great body of troops, mounted and armed, our pikes at our sides in ceremonial salute to our hosts. The thunder of our passage, the squeals of our mounts, and the shouts of my warriors rose into the air as the hot sun gleamed off our metals and hides. It was a grand sight, and must have taught the red men to remember fear, recent allies or no. Downward and outward we moved toward the great silent plains that were our home, our world, out into the dead sea bottoms in which we roamed and battled and feared none but the white ape. The day was young, and the air scented of freedom. 
> 
> It may be a cruel life, but I have seen none better.
> 
>   
> 
> 
> III. 
> 
>   
>  I was enjoying a rare moment of solitude in the sunlight by the window embrasure when the sound of lowered voices came to me from beyond the tall, translucent screen that I had pushed aside. 
> 
> This object, a treasure from far Kaol gifted us by Kulan Tith, Jeddak of that mysterious southern country and friend to my beloved husband, John Carter — now returned to me after many years of cruel separation and acclaimed Warlord of all Barsoom by such an assemblage of jeddaks and jeds as our world had never before seen — was of great beauty, composed as it was of the brightly-colored plumes of some exotic tree as did not grow in the arid earth of Helium, and set in an elaborately carved frame of dark wood.
> 
> Such a treasure is also very practical, for it lets in the light without allowing a viewer to see through it in the other direction, thus protecting the privacy of the daughters of the house of Mors Kajak. It had been a thoughtful gift from a good friend and ally.
> 
> But always it was that way with my husband; if he did not make as many friends as he slew enemies, it was only because he slew so very many enemies that the most dedicated chronicler could not keep count. For he had fought evils both great and petty, but only made friends of the best, the bravest and most loyal men, women and beasts our world had to offer. I smiled as I thought of him, soon to return from his inspection of our rebuilding navy, and as I did so, I heard the words of my waiting women, lovely daughters of jeds and nobles all, and my daily and constant companions.
> 
> "And she is to have rooms within the palace!"
> 
> "Not merely within, but near our lady's own!" 
> 
> "And thus, also near those of another—" and the fair voices broke off in malicious merriment, light and careless. 
> 
> It was a moment before their meaning came to me, for as the wife of John Carter, the most faithful man who ever lived and fought on two worlds, I had never been accustomed to the doubts and jealousies that plague less happy mortals.
> 
> "Our princess is known for her kindness..." The girl's voice left no doubt as to her lack of respect for that attribute above others. "But perhaps her generosity may lead her to error at times."
> 
> "It were better she showed that" — here the other maiden's voice was lowered further as she spoke some vulgar epithet, and then she resumed — "her palm, than to keep her here to ply her foreign airs and wiles under the very nose of the Warlord. Why, does our lady not know — has she not heard that this Thuvia of Ptarth was for thirty years the slave and plaything of the therns? What honor can such a creature have?" 
> 
> One might wonder why I so suffered my women to so slander a guest, and more, one as dear to me as a sister. The answer is simple. I was filled with such fury that I could scarcely move, but stood, as one struck dumb, hearing their sandal-shod footsteps and soft giggles as they approached my inner quarters. 
> 
> In another moment the paralysis had left me, and I stepped from behind the screen, a flush of anger heating my cheeks. The girls saw me and dropped into nervous obeisances at once, and the bolder began to speak, but I would have none of it. "How dare you speak thus of a guest in these halls, one who is welcomed and honored by myself, by my father and grandfather, and yes, by my husband, John Carter, Warlord of all Barsoom? One who has ever been my dear friend, and who has shown her loyalty in circumstances so dire that those who have not seen them cannot begin to imagine? What could inspire such discourtesy, such—" and then my feelings rose up too strongly, and I could only stamp my foot on the marble floor like a child, such was my outrage at this slight upon one who had been my only comfort for the long year we had been imprisoned in the hellish stone chamber of the Temple of the Sun, and many other sufferings besides.
> 
> "We thought only of you, most merciful princess, of your honor—" the wretched creatures pleaded and flattered, weeping in their shock, for never had I been one to fly into fits of temper or abuse those who served me as the daughters of some great houses were wont to do.
> 
> Spoke they of honor! 
> 
> "They mean no harm," came a gentle voice from the hallway, and there — though I would not for anything have had her hear those hateful words — stood Thuvia, daughter of Thuvan Dihn, Jeddak of Ptarth. "They carelessly repeat only what they have heard elsewhere. Always my treatment here in your household has been as kind and welcoming as any could wish." She advanced into the room with the dignity that had borne her through such hardships and looked down at the crying girls, who had never known aught but luxuries and peace, that same life which Thuvia had left behind on a false promise of refuge and forgetfulness at the end of the icy River Iss. "I would not wish them to be punished for it. Please, let them stay."
> 
> "I have no need for the company of those who would speak such words," I replied simply, raising my hand in the gesture of dismissal. Seeing that the matter was hopeless, the two former ladies in waiting helped each other to rise and departed, still weeping, to return to their fathers' homes in disgrace.
> 
> I led my dear Thuvia back into my apartments, where we clasped our arms about each other and sighed. "And are such rumors so common, then, that even the daughters of the court repeat them? How have I not heard of this?" 
> 
> "The insult to your husband would naturally not be welcome to your ears," Thuvia explained coolly. I knew her calm manner wreathed such devoted affection as to rival our Woola, that most loyal of beasts, and I clung to her the harder as the truth became apparent to me. Indeed, the insult to John Carter was as great as that to Thuvia, although I had again failed to comprehend it at first, such was my faith in him and in our love. 
> 
> "None could believe such baseness of him — or of you," I assured her. "Well do I know that though you loved my husband when he found you in the toils of the evil therns of the Mountains of Otz, your affection for us both has ever been disinterested and pure."
> 
> She inclined her head. "I did love him," she said, although it was not confession, but merely agreement, as I knew. "He came when I had no hope left of gods, and showed me there was good to be found still in man. He bore features much like those of the man who had most tormented me, and yet was kind and noble. He saved my life — again and again, though at any time it might have been at the cost of his own. Who would not love such a man? And yet, always, his heart was not mine to win — that was understood." She touched my cheek and smiled. 
> 
> It was not a reluctant smile, but a warm one, and something within me relaxed, for I knew at last that she truly no longer suffered for love of my husband, although she remained a great friend to us both.
> 
> "And this nonsense of the thirty years as a toy of the therns," I said warmly. "Why, any jeddak's daughter would have found a way to end her life long before a single violation, let alone suffer herself to be kept thus, a slave, a plaything..."
> 
> Thuvia of Ptarth lowered her hand, and the first doubt to darken her expression since our conversation began entered her clear countenance. She made as if to speak, then stopped; and I wondered, then, what secrets she might be keeping, for though we had spoken many long hours during the time of our imprisonment in the Temple of the Sun, and again in far Kaol, and again in the palace of the Jeddak of Okar, and before, and since, our stories had been mostly of happier times in our lives or the great deeds of the man we both loved, whereas of the torments and degradations of her time in service among the so-called Holy Therns, I knew we had not touched on all.
> 
> At length, she spoke. "They were not correct," she said. "It was merely fifteen years. And I... because of my ability to train the sacred banths, and the uncanny affinity which they had for me, I was able to avoid... much wrong."
> 
> Much wrong, I feared momentarily, seeing her troubled expression, but not all. For a moment my blood ran cold at the vision of my tender friend at the mercy of such vile calots. Then hope reasserted itself. What I had said, I believed implicitly: the daughter of the Jeddak of Ptarth would have hurled herself from the golden cliffs or fasted until the breath of life had left her feeble body, rather than be used thus. Surely it must be that she had used her wits and her powers to avoid their importunities and had suffered only such cruelties as were generally heaped upon laboring slaves in that harsh world in the service of a false religion. 
> 
> "My brave Thuvia," I said, holding her close again, for it seemed that she doubted her reception and would withdraw. "Well do I know with how much dignity and courage you comport yourself under conditions of captivity and threatened by wicked men who know not the meaning of the word, honor."
> 
> She smiled a small, warm smile, and there was whimsy in her voice when she replied, "Once I had offered myself in your service, Princess, indeed, I had little to fear from wicked men, for always their eyes turn to you, the most beautiful woman on Barsoom." 
> 
> I laughed merrily, for although it is true that men have oft acclaimed me fairest of our people, Thuvia too was of a beauty that would turn the heads of jeds and jeddaks the world over — and has. But this jest showed that her spirit was still light after her ordeals, and I was quick to respond. "And what then of honorable men? Could the heart of the daughter of Thuvan Dihn love again?" 
> 
> And although in a way, I found it difficult to believe any could love a lesser man once they had known my John Carter, still I hoped for her sake — and perhaps for that of my son, Carthoris, whose eyes it often seemed to me regarded my friend with a warmer glow than mere admiration — that it could be true.
> 
> "Perhaps," Thuvia said, and this time the secret veiled behind her eyes was the same as held by maidens anywhere.
> 
>   
> 
> 
> IV. 
> 
>   
>  To Carthoris, son of John Carter and Dejah Thoris, I had often told the tale of the sacking of Zodanga, when my father, Tars Tarkas, mustered the greatest force of green warriors ever to turn their pikes against a common enemy and the first to fight as allies of red men.
> 
> His young sister, Tara, at times requested other tales. She often asked to hear of the years when John Carter had vanished from Barsoom, for this seemed to her, who had never known a life without a father, an impossible calamity. 
> 
> I have told her of the dark time after Carthoris as well had been lost on a southerly expedition, grieving his mother greatly, and Tardos Mors and his son in their turn had vanished in their search for him. Ruling in their stead came Zat Arras, a Zodangan prince, and with him men — armies that loved not the green man, for they remembered the burning ruins of their city at the hands of my father and his warriors. 
> 
> Happiness is a foreign concept to my people, except during battle, and I am still not sure it has ever lifted my heart with the same joy and ease with which it seems to fill the red women about me. But in Helium, I had come the closest to that feeling. The people knew me for a friend of their great hero and a servant of their beloved princess, and although I was greeted with stares everywhere I went in the city, also was I greeted with a friendly "Kaor" and often with a flower or other small treat. When the Zodangans came, my new home began to feel as my old; cold and dangerous. Men stared threateningly on the street, and I began to fear to leave the palace alone. 
> 
> The daughter of Tars Tarkas is no coward, and green women are fierce fighters, fiercer than the men, when needed, but except in times of great war, we do not fight. Women do not kill men, nor men, women; that is one of our laws. If I, a guest in this city, were attacked, I could not defend myself. 
> 
> One day when out in the marketplace running some errand for the princess, I encountered a band of Zodangans who began to follow me, calling names and touching their swords. I thought one of the larger (although all are small to my eyes) tried to dissuade them, but they would have none of it, and presently herded me into a quieter section of the plaza, from which all passersby fled. 
> 
> Fearing the result — both what might become of me and that I might injure these warriors with my greater size and strength — I glanced about me and saw a small stairway that crossed over the outer wall. We were in an old section of Helium, rarely used, and that such a thing might exist I had not realized. Quickly I descended, using my middle limbs to steady myself on the tiny, crumbling steps that may have been broad enough for red feet, but not for green, and made my fearful way past empty windows, carved in the rock of the outer wall, that echoed of long desertion and silence. With a shout, the Zodangan warriors, peering over the wall, followed from above. 
> 
> The ochre sea bottoms of my home spread out far below and about me, and I wondered if I shortly would fall to end my life against the plains on which I had first cracked the egg and felt sunlight, but soon the stairwell let out into a small outpost of other buildings that clung to the outer wall, their lacy carved stone screens and open porticos suggesting this had once been a viewing spot for nobles desirous of a shady and unusual retreat. The long-deserted look of the ancient cells reminded me of the dead cities in which my people make their camps, and I felt comforted. Dashing as hastily as I could within the cover of one of the small towers, I pressed myself to an inner wall and hoped not to be found.
> 
> Alas, the resemblance to those dead cities did not end at the ancient crumbling stones. Here, too, lurked the great white apes that also haunt those deserted places — the only beast that green men fear. With a dreadful roar, an ape sprang at me, the bristle of hair on its head coming up to my chin, while behind it a much larger rose and bellowed its threat. I fled as best I might, although the small doorways and furniture of the room, better suited to a child, hampered my path. A second door appeared to lead to the upper floors of the tower, but when I wrenched it open, only a slide of rubble spilled out: the stairs had long ago collapsed, and I was trapped, the two growling, monstrous creatures advancing, teeth bared and all four upper limbs extended in their rage and hunger.
> 
> Another woman would long since have drawn her sidearm, and let its deadly projectiles explode against the white apes' hearts. Enough sunlight penetrated through the open doorway to trigger the explosions that render our bullets so deadly, and my aim rarely fails. But I — unlike any other of my people, except perhaps my gentle mother, long since dead under many tortures — have never drawn pleasure from the sight of pain or death. I regretted the action, but now I centered the muzzle of the pistol on the closer, smaller ape. 
> 
> With an added cry, the larger thrust the smaller aside, so that it fell against the wall and roared in anger, but again the greater in size moved to block it, menacing me further. I realized then what I had not before — the larger was female, and the smaller, its child. 
> 
> Apes will desert their mates and eat the flesh of their own. They have not the justice and courage of the green men nor the quick sympathies of the red. But I could no more part a mother and child than I would aim a bullet at my own heart. Projecting my thought as clearly as I could, I indicated the door with three hands while keeping my aim steady with the fourth. "Go! Fly!" With a last growl and glare, the larger ape seized the smaller, which still strained to lunge for me, by its scruff and dragged it from the building. I knew their issuance would draw attention to where I hid, but I saw no other choice. 
> 
> I thought then of the Zodangans, searching these ruins unknowing of their other tenants. Could I let even my enemies stumble into a mass of angry beasts, to have their entrails torn and their faces rent and devoured by those terrible teeth? In the silence, I trembled, but — no, Sola, daughter of Gozava, could not let this be. I emerged onto the small plaza and called out to the red men to 'ware the great white apes. 
> 
> They turned and saw me, and one raised his arm to shoot, while another knocked it down. 
> 
> "None would know," the first argued, and behind them from many gaps in the broken-windowed building they had been about to search poured silently a stream of the mighty apes, their strange front-set eyes gleaming and their free hands outstretched, swarming easily down the wall. 
> 
> I cried another warning and ran forward, though all but one of the red men took this as a threat and began too to train their weapons upon me. That other turned and looked behind him, and then gave voice to a cry of warning that caused his companions as well to turn and behold the danger. Then we fled as one toward the steps leading up the wall, back to the safety of the inhabited city. 
> 
> I was closest to the stair. The Zodangans drove the apes back with well-placed shots, leaving dead white bodies piled to block pursuit. On their smaller feet, they quickly approached me from below, shouting threats and ordering me to make way. As I clung to the steps with all six limbs to avoid slipping, with my greater and more unwieldy bulk, to be dashed to the ground far below, the nearest man drew his sword and made to hack at me. 
> 
> With an unearthly scream, the torso of a great white ape emerged suddenly from the very face of the cliff behind me — from one of the deserted apartments by the ancient stair. Seizing the man by his hair, she dragged him within and was not seen again. 
> 
> I say she, for I am certain it was the mother ape whose child I had spared. If any know the power of that bond, it is I, whose mother went against untold centuries of law to die for it.
> 
> "Come!" said a voice to my right. Still clinging with all digits to the stone steps, I looked and beheld, beckoning from an arch that opened onto the stairway from the other side, one of the Zodangans. And yet he appeared to be addressing me rather than his fellows. Still fearing their assault, I followed him, struggling through the small opening into an observation porch lined with faded swirls of pigment. The other men dared not pause, but continued to make their escape up the stair, and soon my rescuer, who had been watching the archway with sword drawn in case the apes pursued further, turned to me with a grim smile and indicated that we should follow them. 
> 
> With the strange chivalry of the red men, he insisted I ascend first, though I towered over him. I climbed as quickly as I could while he watched below us. Once we regained the safety of the square, he said to me, "Well! I know not whether I should invite you to polish our metal over a cup of ale, as with a fellow warrior, for so you appear, or escort you to your home as for a maiden."
> 
> He was small and hideous, as all red men are, with their bulbous protrusions where ears and nose should be, their tiny, misplaced eyes, their paucity of limbs, and their disturbing tusklessness. And green women are not warriors, and do not eat with the men. I did not know then that neither would a red woman have accepted such an invitation, as I had spent all my time in Helium in the household of the Princess, and was yet ignorant of many customs. But the comradeship in his voice could not be mistaken, and after a time I said, "I am thirsty." 
> 
> The tavern that we found was filled with Heliumites, who stared, but let us sit in peace. The Zodangan, whose name was Bar Farral, told me he had learned of the passageways and rooms on the cliffside on private explorations there to view the ancient murals, of which they had none in Zodanga, as all the oldest buildings had been destroyed in the attack led by my father. 
> 
> "And yet you show me kindness," I said. 
> 
> "I have no love for the Tharks," he replied. "But many in my city regretted our Jeddak's actions in leading us into an unjust war. Some spoke of demanding that the council force Than Kosis to make peace with Helium; but we gave in to the temptation of loot and glory, and did not. Although the memory of the sack will never fade, you will find that some Zodangans can be trusted not to kill a green man on sight. I should avoid walking about alone at present, though, if I were you." 
> 
> I nodded. As the Zodangan drank his ale, showing much relief to have lived after our adventure among the dreaded apes, he grew friendlier, even giddy, a mood I have often seen red warriors take on after a successful battle. "Sola, green maiden. Are you beautiful among your people?" he asked, as I sat quietly, the small bench pushed back to make room.
> 
> "I do not know," I said. It was a question I had never asked myself. "My nature was such that all spurned me, and that is what matters."
> 
> "Your nature seems to me very pleasant," he replied. I thought that it was the ale that seemed to him pleasant, but did not reply, of course. He asked me after a time if my people paint; I told him they did not. I had not even seen the murals of which he spoke, although they must have been among the strange daubs of color on the walls of the room where we had sheltered. 
> 
> "I have no great talent, but I have put pigment to surface on occasion," he said. "I should like to add you to one of the scenes of crowds in the marketplace, that many ages from hence, red men may look upon it and wonder how it came that a Thark lived among us in friendship."
> 
> "Perhaps many ages from hence, that will not be a wonder," I said. 
> 
> By this point in the tale, young Tara would inevitably have fallen asleep. She cared only for the part with the apes. 
> 
>   
> 
> 
> V. 
> 
>   
>  I will not say that I am bored by peace, for that would be a lie. How could I be discontent with a life that allows me to spend day and night by the side of my beloved Dejah Thoris, the incomparable princess whom I have fought countless battles to win and protect, and in the company of my son and daughter — the son whose first steps I did not get to see, whom I first met as a stranger, and the daughter, born in a time of peace, whom I have been lucky enough to know from birth? It would be ungrateful and untrue to say that I pine sometimes for the clamor of battle, for the adventures that risked life and limb in the pits and in the cold and rarified air far above the mountains, for the clash of arms and fountains of blood that for years were my daily accompaniment. 
> 
> Nevertheless.
> 
> The red men of Mars know well the urge to battle, infused as their whole society is with the values of a warrior people on a dying planet — quick to quarrel, quick to admire courage, and quick to end life. Although peace had been established under the continued reign of Tardos Mors, Jeddak of Helium, Mors Kajak, his son, and, I suppose, myself — although I saw my role primarily as lending a sword where it was needed, rather than as a world-conquering overlord, for mighty foolish I would look indeed, imagining myself a sort of second Caesar — there continued to be enough troublesome jeds and distant rebellions to provide regular fodder for keeping up my swordsmanship, and then there was always fighting to be found among the wild tribes of the green men, whose notion of peace and stability encompassed a much greater amount of bloodshed than ours. 
> 
> I say ours, for I had come after so many years to view the red men, and especially the Heliumites, as my own people, and almost to forget that I had once lived and fought in far Virginia, beloved though that now-exotic land might be. 
> 
> Yes, though I lived a life of daily bliss and could, had I so chosen, have let myself get quite as fat and sluggish as the soraks that slumbered in the hot sun among the pimalia beds of the palace gardens, my sword did not grow rusty.
> 
> I was often amused, as well, by the small perturbations that could grow to assume the proportions of importance in our now relatively peaceful lives. Not that my beloved was prone to fussing and fidgeting about every little thing, but — well... life is different during wartime. 
> 
> "I wish you would talk to her," Dejah Thoris said to me again, turning from the balustrade over which we had been leaning, watching our daughter at her sport below. Although Tara had taken after her mother in looks, for which I imagine we were all grateful, despite her slender frame she seemed to have inherited a modicum of the Earthly strength so evident in her brother, Carthoris, and perhaps some of my tendency toward adventurousness and preference for vigorous activity as well. "Such behavior is not unseemly, perhaps, but it is certainly not..." My wife paused, at an uncharacteristic loss for words. "What one does," she finished, shrugging her graceful shoulders helplessly. 
> 
> "You fear that our Tara may be an unnaturally strong-minded young woman?" I essayed at last, still not seeing the sense of the objection. The weight of custom is heavy on Barsoom, often carrying the force of law. However, nobles' daughters often learn to fly small craft and to hunt and most even receive some training in the use of weapons, although they are not expected to draw on it except perhaps in cases of the direst emergency. "Her nature, while willful, appears quite feminine to me, although I suppose as a proud father I may have missed some flaw in her character."
> 
> My wife tossed me a look of fond impatience, for she heard the mild humor in my tone, and wished me to take this matter seriously. "Jeddaks and jeds do not look for their wives among the ranks of harridans and—" she used a word that would roughly translate to the English 'tomboy.'
> 
> I could not suppress a smile then, for if that were her only objection, I could be at ease. "Certainly I will drop a word in her ear, if you wish it, warning her that unmaidenly behavior may put a dent in her marital prospects," I said. "Only let me wait until some small gap has opened up in the mob of young men surrounding her, so that I may win close enough to be heard."
> 
> "You are hopeless, my husband!" cried Dejah Thoris, daughter of a thousand jeddaks, and she gave me a slight shove with her shapely hand. Then we proceeded along our promenade, talking of other things, while our daughter, Tara, healthy and graceful, engaged in her races and mock battles. 
> 
> The youth of the court had taken it into their head to reenact certain famous encounters of the past, as celebration of some upcoming event or other — from the covered smiles and evasive answers I had gotten on the subject, I suspected it would prove to feature some exploits of mine, although indeed, there had been few battles in the last forty years of which I had _not_ been deep in the thick — and the corridors often rang with shouted challenges and running feet as they prepared their surprise. Some of the stuffier nobles had objected, but as this seemed to be taking the place of the regular duels and blood sports more commonly engaged in by the restless young, the women on the whole had supported it. 
> 
> A more manly occupation seemed likely in the near future for the eager blades, however. The troublesome Keratans, neighbors to Zodanga and sheltering many fled warriors of that once-conquered city, were showing signs of open rebellion, after many years of small challenges and petty unrest. The jed, Has Majul, cousin to Zat Arras, who threw himself from the deck of his flagship in defeat during our great battle above the gardens of the therns, had often made it clear that he had no great love for Helium, nor for Tardos Mors or Mors Kajak, and particularly not, I'm afraid, for yours truly.
> 
> Having met the man, who reminded me of nothing so much as a puffed-up, slimy toad, I felt his dislike was a cross I could very well bear. But even on warlike Mars, one may not introduce a man's face to one's fist without warning simply because one dislikes him — at least, it is frowned upon at the higher levels of diplomacy, where through some quirk of fate I had found myself — and so he continued to be admitted to the court of Tardos Mors on occasion, while his cruisers "accidentally" began crossing borders, causing damage to our people's crops, and similar mischief.
> 
> The matter would not be long before coming to a head, I felt, and had (I admit it) begun to whistle to myself as I polished my longsword, merely on the off chance it might soon be put to better use than hanging in its polished rack of inlaid sorapus wood. The arrival of a Keratan ambassador, rather than the man himself, to attend the upcoming festivities, suggested that Has Majul, Jed of Kerata, might be busy with other things. Reinforcing and provisioning a navy, for example? Yes, I must admit I greeted the ambassador with more than my usual warmth toward representatives of that city. 
> 
> "Welcome, Nolam Bes," I said, when the formalities had been concluded. "You are just in time to observe some of our resting fighters and fliers at drill" — for Tardos Mors believed the best way to honor possibly hostile visitors was with a display of Helium's military might, and would arrange fantastic shows of daring, strength and skill for their benefit. 
> 
> "It would be a pleasure," the ambassador said, indicating with a smug yet obsequious air that I should precede him down the walkway. I preferred, however, to have others at my back than he, and accompanied him at his side, with Dejah Thoris at mine, an expression of haughty politeness upon her beautiful face. She had never forgiven the late, unlamented Zat Arras for the importunities which had driven her to take the final pilgrimage to the River Iss and for his attempts to seize rule from her grandfather, Tardos Mors, nor, I believe, for his sentencing of me to death as a blasphemer, and she had transferred that dislike to his cousin and all things Keratan once that ruler showed signs of similar ambition. 
> 
> "I hear that Has Majul, Jed of Kerata, has been exercising his troops much of late as well," I said cheerily, leading the way down a pimalia-shaded arbor that connected with the flight of hewn emerald steps that would take us to the terrace overlooking the raked grounds on which we would observe our men at parade maneuvers. 
> 
> "No more than usual, O Warlord," the ambassador said cautiously, losing perhaps an iota or two of his smugness. I wondered if Has Majul had truly thought Helium unaware of his plans, or if he had hoped to avoid forcing the issue until his troops were fully mustered. "The men grow restless in times of peace; such is the way of healthy fighters."
> 
> My gracious Dejah Thoris would normally have interjected a compliment to the doughty men of Kerata at this point, but she merely tipped her small, firm chin a fraction of an inch in recognition. Clearly, the social burden would fall to me on this occasion. "Indeed," I said, "We have found it to be the case with our own—" 
> 
> Whatever I might have said at this point was drowned out by a terrific yell, as two of the younger lords of the court — the sons of jeds and jeddaks, who might on another occasion wear precious metals and rare jewels upon their harnesses — burst out in front of us wrapped in rags and furs, grotesque masks upon their faces, roaring in a manner that I soon realized was meant to indicate angered calots, or perhaps banths. It was difficult to determine, as they performed with more enthusiasm than accuracy. Between them they harried one of the court maidens, a young girl who looked to be about seventeen or so, although on this ageless world she could have seen two hundred years or more. 
> 
> No sooner had this colorful sight met our eyes than with a blood-curling yell, a savage descended from the sky directly above us — skin painted white, caparisoned in strange trappings and tied up and down the arms with red ribbons — brandishing high one of the hooked swords of the yellow men. Steering the one-man flier straight down at unwise speeds by what looked to be some combination of lower limbs, luck, and willpower, the attacker swooped low and mimed a deadly assault, which was accepted by the ragged beast-men with much thrashing and rolling on their backs and further screaming, after which the victor scooped up the girl in rescue, dragging the overburdened flier low as they spun to make their exit, the costumed young lords chasing after them. I had recognized the youthful figure on the flier, despite the odd headdress and masculine garb, for it was clearly that of my own daughter, Tara. What historical figure or brave champion she had been embodying, however, I was not as certain. The combination of skin color and weaponry brought nothing to mind — but I was sure it would be made clear on the day. 
> 
> Silence fell in the courtyard, and I became aware that the ambassador was trembling slightly. His red-skinned face unusually pale and sallow, he took a surprisingly long time to speak, and when he did, a strange squeakiness was apparent in his tone, rather like the sounds made by Earth rats, although his words were confident. "And are these, then, the famed fighters of Helium — are the great ships of its navy steered by crazed girls and madmen?" Although clearly unnerved, still he managed a sneer. 
> 
> I was briefly tempted to arrange for him an immediate encounter with one whom any man must admit is one of the most famed fighters of Helium yet living, to wit, myself, but whatever answer I might have made was cut off by a silvery laugh from the ambassador's far side — where my wife, Dejah Thoris, rather than the expression of shamed disapproval I had expected to see, wore only those roguish dimples that I had long known and loved so well. "Nonsense, Ambassador. Nolam Bes is pleased to jest with us. That was merely our young daughter, Tara, engaged in such games as pass the time for our tender court maidens. Often do they disport themselves thus, when not practicing marksmanship or some other little diversion. I am sorry her play startled you so. I shall scold her for discomfiting a guest."
> 
> "I am not startled," Nolam Bes insisted. 
> 
> Dejah Thoris smiled sweetly. "Nevertheless, I shall go. My husband, pray continue on to the terrace overlooking the drill grounds and show the ambassador how the _men_ of Helium fight." 
> 
> I did so, escorting the ambassador with a firm clasp on his arm and being sure to point out all the most salient features of our latest weaponry, precision drills, and daredevil small-craft flying. Although a minor display, consisting of no more than twenty cruisers, a hundred smaller fliers, and a few utans of troops, rather than the vast parade that would be assembled for a court function, it was still a grand treat for any eyes, but I am not sure he relished it overmuch. 
> 
> War did not, in fact, come to us from Kerata — not that year. Nor did a second ambassador, and Nolam Bes became the first man that I can recall ever to refuse the traditional invitation to dine with my wife, son, and daughter at our table. He sent word that he was ill, and left the next day. It is true as well that although Tara continued her wild behavior and played a central role in the violent pageant that was enacted not long afterward to much applause from the assembled nobles — I must admit, I never did determine who or what she was supposed to be — my wife's continued disapproval was expressed in the form of a new pistol to hang at our daughter's side, dainty and inlaid with copper and gold, and a fine new flier powerful enough to take Tara far beyond the boundaries of Helium (as, in fact, it shortly did — but that is a tale for another time.)
> 
> I might, perhaps, hazard a guess as to what was running through the mind of the cowardly ambassador, or even that of Has Majul, Jed of Kerata, but I have never claimed to understand women.   
> 
> 
> * * *

 


End file.
